


Some Good Days, Some Bad Days

by lordelannette



Series: Brooklyn Syndrome [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bad Days, But no actual serum, Dark Steve Rogers, Good Days, Isolation, M/M, Possessive Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Is A Doctor, kidnapped Bucky, locked inside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 11:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16891896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordelannette/pseuds/lordelannette
Summary: Steve will never let him go, even when Bucky fights back.





	Some Good Days, Some Bad Days

Sometimes, Steve would get home from work and his lover would be working away in the kitchen, humming a quiet tune under his breath as he laid out their dinner. Steve would stand in the doorway, watching Bucky with hawk-like eyes until the brunet would catch sight of him and smile that sultry smile that would make Steve fill to the top with so much love and adoration that he thought he would explode. 

As they ate they would talk about their day, sharing plans for the week. Domestic things that would make Bucky preen with normalcy. Sometimes they wouldn’t eat at the table and instead would find their way to the couch, Steve pulling Bucky into his lap and they would take turns feeding each other, sharing soft smiles and heated kisses with hushed words murmured in between.

Other times, Steve would surprise Bucky early and insist on making dinner himself. They’d eat, then turn in early on those days, and Steve would cover Bucky’s hands with his own and drag them into their bedroom. On nights like these, they had a habit of making love gently throughout the night. They would lose themselves in each other, naked bodies pressed tight against one another, gentle touches and lips staying hovering together to where they breathed as one and whispered their declarations of love.

Sometimes though.

Sometimes Steve would arrive home, unlocking the deadbolts from the outside, and the house would be as eerily quiet as it had been the very day he had brought Bucky in. On these nights, Steve would make his way into the living room, loosen his tie and drape his jacket over the back of an armchair. He always poured himself a half-glass of Scotch and relished in the strong burn when the liquid would slide down his throat, before he made his way through the rest of the house to find where Bucky was located.

After a long day of listening to his patients complain about their problems, coming home to Bucky was the thing that Steve looked forward to the very second he walked out of the house. Every second spent apart left Steve on edge and when he would be at work, tucked away in his office, he would eye his computer as it showed the various camera feeds scattered throughout the house, watching Bucky closely through the monitors. So when it was one of  _ those  _ days, Steve would already know and he had the short drive from the hospital to the house to prepare himself. Before he entered the house, he would check the entrance feed through his phone and would pocket it quickly when it was all clear. Only then would he enter.  

When Steve finally pushed open the bathroom door after checking through Bucky’s usual locations, he let out a deep breath of relief as he caught sight of his lover. Bucky was relaxed in the tub, his hair pulled up into a loose bun with damp tendrils hanging free. When Steve entered, Bucky’s eyes snapped up to his and held, before he slid further into the tub until the water covered his lips and left only his nose and piercing gaze visible.

Steve looked on with unblinking eyes. He closed the door gently behind him, and started towards Bucky, adjusting his erection as he went.

 

* * *

 

In the beginning, Bucky had resented him. When Steve would reach out to try and caress his lover, Bucky would frantically scoot away in panic, fearful of what Steve would do. When Steve pressed his lips against Bucky’s, the brunet would stay motionless, unattached. On most days, Bucky wouldn’t even look at him, forcing his gaze in the opposite direction and sleeping with his back towards Steve even when he was pulled in close.

Which, all things considered, Steve had expected that.

Their relationship happened slowly, so agonizingly slow that some days Steve thought it would never happen at all. But Steve had held on, poured his love and care into Bucky at every chance he could, every minute of every day.

Steve never denied his feelings, had known from the very moment he laid eyes on Bucky that the brunet was it for him, but _Bucky…_ he had fought tooth and nail at every chance he got. There had been bad days, a _lot_ of bad days, and a good day had only happened a few times a month. But as more months began to pass-- five, ten, _thirteen--_ there had finally been a shift of more good days than bad, going weeks and sometimes months before hell broke loose again.

It had been a process but Steve knew from the very beginning that it would all be worth it. Simply having Bucky by his side was more than enough for him, acceptance or not.

But now when Steve called, Bucky came with smiles and soft touches.

 

* * *

 

Bucky let his body be lifted from the tub. 

Steve didn’t care that his clothes got soaked, only held Bucky closer as he crossed the hall into their bedroom. He laid Bucky down with extreme gentleness and quickly toweled off the droplets of water that clung to the brunet’s skin. He let some dampness remain, knowing the chilly air would let Bucky be more than welcoming to accept Steve’s warmth.  

Steve let his hands roam down Bucky’s skin, bending down to let his lips ghost across Bucky’s flesh. He could feel the man shivering beneath him and pushed himself up to cage Bucky in. When Steve’s lips pressed against the wavering beat in Bucky’s throat, his lover swallowed.

“What is it, baby?” Steve asked, pulling back slightly. His bright blue eyes sought out Bucky’s and had to bring up his hand to hold Bucky’s jaw in place when the brunet tried to shift his head to the side. “Tell me,” he whispered, tone gentle.

“T-Today’s my mom’s birthday,” Bucky hesitantly spoke, his gaze searching Steve’s.

Steve sighed heavily. He knew what day it was, had seen the Facebook post that Rebecca Barnes had put onto her timeline. The girl had posted a picture of her and her mom, the space to their left empty but still tagged as  _ James Barnes _ .

“Bucky,” Steve spoke, frowning down at the man beneath him.

“Please,” Bucky whimpered. “P-please, I haven’t… it’s been weeks, Steve.”

Steve looked down at the brunet, watching him carefully. They had had this conversation before and Bucky knew his answer before he said, “No. No, Buck.” Steve’s hands tightened around the slim body beneath him as Bucky began to squirm.

“Please,” Bucky’s jaw began to tremble. “Please.  _ Please,  _ Steve. I-I’ll be g-good just let me call her. Just a quick phone call.  _ Please _ ,” his voice was raw as he sobbed out, his eyes turning glossy.

Steve lowered his head and peppered small kisses along Bucky’s cheek, reaching out to wrap his hands around Bucky’s wrists to hold him in place. He could recognize the fight as it started to settle into his lover and knew what was bound to come.

“No, baby,” he whispered into Bucky’s ear. He felt Bucky tense beneath him and like a switch had been flipped, the brunet’s movements began to turn desperate. Despite the strength of Steve’s hands around his wrists, Bucky tried to tug himself free, jerking against Steve as much as he could.

_ This  _ is what Steve hated, feeling Bucky fight against him. As if being with Steve,  _ under  _ Steve, was the worse place that Bucky could possible be. And perhaps it was but Steve would never accept or admit that.

Never. 

“Bucky,  _ stop _ ,” Steve demanded. His head was lowered against Bucky’s neck and he used the advantage of his weight to pin the fighting man down. Bucky was shouting in frustration, in between the sobs that escaped the pale spanse of his throat. It was a struggle to keep Bucky’s arms pinned down but Steve managed because he  _ had  _ to, fighting every move that Bucky made with a force of his own. 

“Stop, baby,” he spoke over Bucky’s cries of protest, voice loud to drown out Bucky’s pleas. “Stop it before you hurt yourself.”

But Bucky paid his words no attention. He continued to fight, his body thrashing with a newfound energy that had Steve grunting in effort. Bucky kept crying, shouting at Steve to let him go, to let him call his family, and that he would be good, so good, but Steve kept shaking his head, muttering his answer over and over.

The struggle felt like it lasted forever yet still, Steve held on.

 

* * *

 

Nearly an hour passed when Steve took the chance of loosening his grip. 

Bucky’s cries had ceased and his body had slowly melted into the thick mattress, his breathing turning lax. Steve shifted onto his side and propped himself up with his elbow, watching Bucky as he stared up at the ceiling.

Long moments of silence drifted between them. It was so silent that the air seemed to ring in it, buzzing between them with hesitance. Steve chose to focus on Bucky’s breathing instead.

“Next year she’ll be fifty,” Bucky spoke. His voice was so soft and weak that Steve had to strain his ears in order to hear him.

Steve said nothing and got up from the bed, careful and on edge, waiting for Bucky to pounce into action. With his eyes trained on Bucky’s spent form, Steve tugged his slacks off, sliding them off of his legs and throwing them to the side before pulling his shirt over his head.

He padded to the drawers and pulled out a pair of sleep pants, standing sideways instead of turning his back towards his lover.

“Want some pants?” he asked, looking towards Bucky and watching as the other young man closed his eyes in defeat. When Steve was met with silence he sighed, and pulled a second pair from the drawer. He knew that Bucky tended to sleep cold, either bundling himself up in their thick blankets or plastering himself to Steve’s body.

Steve closed the drawer and walked back to their bed, fingering the soft fabric of the pants between his fingers, knowing that Bucky would appreciate the smoothness against his skin. He reached out carefully to touch Bucky’s feet, brushing against his ankles as he began to slide the pants onto his lover. Steve’s hands stayed gentle as they traveled up Bucky’s legs and when he reached his hips, the slender man wordlessly lifted himself up. When he was done, Steve pulled the comforter out from underneath him and draped the blanket over Bucky’s body.

Bucky’s gaze was still trained on the ceiling when Steve slid back into the bed. As he settled, Steve pulled Bucky close, letting his gaze skim over his lover’s face.

“I’ll let you call them in a few days,” Steve softly said into the night air, his head angled towards Bucky. “Tomorrow I can show you the picture your sister posted, if you want.”

Quietly, Bucky nodded his head. Steve could hear the faint noises of Bucky’s movements, feeling the soft strands of the brunet’s hair brushing against his shoulder.

Steve let his gaze stay locked on Bucky as the slender man closed his eyes and whispered towards the ceiling, “Happy birthday mom.” Steve felt a sharp pain in his chest as he watched silent tracks of tears leak from Bucky’s closed eyes. It hurt to see, physically wounding him.

Steve leaned over and gently kissed Bucky’s face, reaching up and softly wiping the tears away. He slid his arm underneath Bucky’s neck, using the other to wrap around the man’s chest and brought the brunet close, Bucky’s body being pulled on top of Steve’s.

After a few minutes, Steve finally released the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding as Bucky wrapped his arms around his torso and snuggled in closer than before. Steve’s nose pressed into Bucky’s hair, breathing in his lover’s scent, and pressed his lips to the spanse of Bucky’s forehead. Steve didn’t pull away and instead, tightened his hold around Bucky’s body.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against Bucky’s skin.

There was a short moment of silence as Bucky shifted in his grasp, tucking himself more underneath Steve’s arm than before. It took only a second once Bucky was comfortable that his own voice sleepily drifted out, “I love you too.”

Warmth blossomed throughout Steve’s body at the words. His eyes fluttered close in content and soon enough their breathing deepened as they were lulled into sleep. Steve’s arms remained wrapped tightly around his lover, locked and secure.

Sometimes there were bad days but even on those days Steve had Bucky and never would he let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short sneak peak of a new story titled 'Brooklyn Syndrome' that I will be posting up in the next month. It will feature a dark, possessive Steve that becomes obsessed with Bucky. 
> 
> Hope you guys are as excited as I am!


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